"Man that was close out there," he said to himself. "And in here," he added with a sigh of relief. He ran his hand through his dark, messy hair and stuck the other one in his pocket as he looked around. In the tiny back room there was a couch-well, not even that. It was a raggedy, old loveseat. There were a couple cabinets and a tiny TV perched on an old crate. The room didn't look much larger than a janitorial closet.
Curious about the café he had escaped into, he peeked out the door. From what he could tell, it was only about twice as wide as the "lounge" room/closet, and that included their kitchen. It was probably three times as long as the room he was in. That tiny place had just enough room for 7 two-seater tables, a bar with 6 barstools and the cash register. It was only about half-full with customers.
Basically, the restaurant was much bigger than his shed at home. He turned back and sat on the loveseat. He practically sank to the ground; there was no support. He sighed and tried to think of what to do next. He didn't have a cell phone or even his wallet. Just a couple dollars and some coins. He had originally been out on stroll outside his hotel room when his fans attacked him.
Moments later the door opened to reveal a young girl, probably in her teens, walking slowly with a mug in her hands. He stood up when she entered, unconscientiously. When she came to him she looked up, then further up. He was over a foot taller than her. She had a sweet, innocent face with blue eyes and a kind smile, surrounded by silky brown hair.
"Hi," she said, handing him the mug. Her voice was soft and clear. "Here's your coffee...marshmallows and all," her voice indicating a laugh she was trying to hold back.
"Thanks," he replied in his deep voice, far too deep for someone his age. He took the mug and held the mug up to his chin and let the warmth from the liquid drift over his face. It was refreshing, it was a freezing January and he was worn from the past few weeks.
Before she realized it, he caught her staring at him. He looked at her strangely as he asked, "are you okay." He sat back down.
She snapped back to reality. "Oh, yes," she replied hastily, her face turning crimson. "I just thought...wait! You, you are! You're Josh Hartnett, aren't you?" he nodded, as if guiltily. "You must be the `big-shot actor' my mother was grumbling about. I apologize for anything she said or did. You see, she's kind of got this thing against actors." She went to sit, so he moved to make room on the loveseat. But, instead she sat on the crate, across from him. "Was she horribly evil?"
"No," he reassured her. "She just kind of caught me a little...off guard, is all. Really, though, it's okay." She smiled sweetly at him.
"So how did you end up back here?"
"Well actually-"
"JESSELLE! Get in here right now!" her mother's voice screamed from the kitchen, cutting off Josh's sentence. Jesselle jumped at the voice, her face looked scared.
Curious about the café he had escaped into, he peeked out the door. From what he could tell, it was only about twice as wide as the "lounge" room/closet, and that included their kitchen. It was probably three times as long as the room he was in. That tiny place had just enough room for 7 two-seater tables, a bar with 6 barstools and the cash register. It was only about half-full with customers.
Basically, the restaurant was much bigger than his shed at home. He turned back and sat on the loveseat. He practically sank to the ground; there was no support. He sighed and tried to think of what to do next. He didn't have a cell phone or even his wallet. Just a couple dollars and some coins. He had originally been out on stroll outside his hotel room when his fans attacked him.
Moments later the door opened to reveal a young girl, probably in her teens, walking slowly with a mug in her hands. He stood up when she entered, unconscientiously. When she came to him she looked up, then further up. He was over a foot taller than her. She had a sweet, innocent face with blue eyes and a kind smile, surrounded by silky brown hair.
"Hi," she said, handing him the mug. Her voice was soft and clear. "Here's your coffee...marshmallows and all," her voice indicating a laugh she was trying to hold back.
"Thanks," he replied in his deep voice, far too deep for someone his age. He took the mug and held the mug up to his chin and let the warmth from the liquid drift over his face. It was refreshing, it was a freezing January and he was worn from the past few weeks.
Before she realized it, he caught her staring at him. He looked at her strangely as he asked, "are you okay." He sat back down.
She snapped back to reality. "Oh, yes," she replied hastily, her face turning crimson. "I just thought...wait! You, you are! You're Josh Hartnett, aren't you?" he nodded, as if guiltily. "You must be the `big-shot actor' my mother was grumbling about. I apologize for anything she said or did. You see, she's kind of got this thing against actors." She went to sit, so he moved to make room on the loveseat. But, instead she sat on the crate, across from him. "Was she horribly evil?"
"No," he reassured her. "She just kind of caught me a little...off guard, is all. Really, though, it's okay." She smiled sweetly at him.
"So how did you end up back here?"
"Well actually-"
"JESSELLE! Get in here right now!" her mother's voice screamed from the kitchen, cutting off Josh's sentence. Jesselle jumped at the voice, her face looked scared.